


A Wish Granted

by MyOwnParabatai



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnParabatai/pseuds/MyOwnParabatai
Summary: 5 times Kirk wished on a star, and 1 time he was the wish. Seeing Kirk's life through shooting stars...





	A Wish Granted

1\. Happy Birthday (Or Jim Wants a Family)

The air still had a wintery chill as Jim sat on the slanted roof of the Kirk's farmhouse. He huddled deeper into his  
coat, curling against the wind. His face was upturned, his eyes greedily taking in the stars. The stars he belonged  
to. The stars he wanted so desperately to be a part of. The stars he was born to.

Today was his seventh birthday.

It should have been a fun day. He should have woken up to a stack of pancakes, played with his mom and his  
brother, and got a bike like his other friends, but it didn't work out like that. His mom was off-planet, Helion V or  
something like that. His brother was downstairs, playing holovids with their Uncle Bailey, who moved in when  
mom got her two-year mission. Uncle Bailey constantly used phrases like 'selfish' and 'cold-hearted' whenever the  
boys brought up their mother. Jim didn't know what to make of those muttered words, but he liked Uncle Bailey.

Their uncle made the best spaghetti, with fettucine pasta and a mountain of cheese. He had made it tonight,  
because unlike his so-called family, Bailey thought they should celebrate Jim's birth. Jim was 'a chip off the ol'  
block', according to his uncle. He always told him stories about his father. While his mother only ever talked about  
the USS Kelvin, his uncle told him stories about when his mom used to sneak out to meet his father late at night.  
How they were surprised when his mother found out she was pregnant. How his father, hours after their first child  
was born, proposed to his mom.

The endless field of stars in the sky was broken apart as the bright streak of light soared across the horizon. Jim's  
heart leapt in his throat as he watched the shooting star flew past. He needed to make a wish. He didn't get a  
cake today. He didn't get candles. This would be his birthday wish.

He knew what he wanted.

Uncle Bailey couldn't stay with them anymore after his mom came back. When his mom comes back at the end of  
the year, Bailey was moving to Texas, to live with his wife who had to move there last year for a job. They were  
going to try to have a family of their own. That's what Jim wanted.

A family.

He watched the star vanish from sight, then shut his eyes, crossing his fingers.

"I know you can't bring back Daddy," he started, interlacing his crossed fingers. "But I know you give people what  
they wish for, and I want my family. I want Mom to find a new Dad that will love us so much that Mom will stay  
home. I miss my Mom and I know Sam does, too. Please, please, bring my Mom back home and let us have a  
Dad." He uncrossed his fingers, his joints stiff from squeezing them so tightly. He sighed, shivering in the bitter  
chill. He heard a door open from below.

"Jimmy!" Sam called, stepping out into the beam of light spilling off the front porch. "Uncle Bailey says it's time to  
come inside! It's getting late!"

"Coming!" Jim called back, scaling down onto the back porch. By the time he got down, Sam was waiting,  
scowling.

"I'm gonna be in so much trouble if you get hurt on the roof! You're too little to do stuff like that!"

"You're too little to say stuff like that." Jim replied, smiling. His brother rolled his eyes, dramatically, as other  
teenagers do.

"Whatever." He muttered, going back in the house. Jim followed him, seeing his uncle waiting for him with a small  
bowl of ice cream.

"A little treat for the birthday boy," was his explanation as he handed the bowl to Jim. Jim took it with a big grin,  
sitting at the table to eat his dessert. Bailey sat beside him, his face screwed in discomfort. "Listen, I just got a  
call from your Mom." Jim looked up, the spoon hanging in his hand halfway to his mouth. "She says to tell you  
happy birthday, and that you don't have to worry about her leaving for a few months after she gets back."

Jim dropped the spoon, his hand shaking. His wish was coming true!

"She also wants me to tell you that she's met someone. She met a guy named Frank. They're getting married  
when she gets back. You're getting a new step-dad." He's getting a dad, too?! It is coming true! He's getting a  
family! He really is.

Today was his eighth birthday, and no shooting star passed by. If it did, he would have taken his wish back.

Light spilled out on the front lawn, or what was left of it, and heavy footsteps preceded a clumsy man who reeked  
of gin.

"Jim! Where are you, you little brat! Get your ass in this house right now!"

He stayed curled up on the roof, even if the chilly air cut him to the bone in his tattered, ripped jacket.

"Fine!" His stepfather, Frank, yelled. "If you're not coming in, you can stay your ass outside! Night, night, Jimmy!"

He stumbled back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him. Jim flinched when he heard the locks  
sliding shut. Sadly, this wasn't the first time he slept under the stars. It beat cleaning up Frank's empty bottles  
and the dirty, food-covered dishes scattered all over the house. It was definitely better than hearing Frank's  
words, words like 'faggot' and 'loser' said all too often.

Besides, he had a warm nest built in the attic of the barn. He just had to wait until Frank went to bed.

"Happy birthday, Jimmy." He mumbled in the biting wind. He looked up at the stars. His mom barely lasted a  
month before she ran back to them. He wants to run, too, but he would have to wait. From where he was sitting,  
he had nothing but time.

 

2\. A Necessary Evil (Or Jim Wants to Go Home)

The night rose starless and dark on Tarsus IV. Jim watched the dim moons of the planet rise in the sky, bringing  
hardly any light to the starving world. He had ten kids with him. Ten children he helped escape the 'evaluation' of  
Kodos. He knew right away why Kodos had been rounding up the young, the sick, and the weak. The research he  
had done for school on the Holocaust while he was on Terra had stuck with him, apparently for good reason. He  
managed to smuggle ten children (because adults couldn't believe the words coming out of a scrawny thirteen  
year old's mouth) out of the complex before guns started firing and the screams began. He couldn't bring himself  
to go back. He had been more concerned about getting the hell out of there.

He was sitting beside the youngest, Hanna. She was dying.

It had all started with a sneeze. Jim had thought nothing of it at the time, but then she started coughing, she had  
raging fevers, and she barely kept down anything she ate. They didn't have medical knowledge or supplies, but  
even then, Jim knew what was happening to her was no small thing. She looked sickly when he pulled her out of  
Kodos' complex. Her fever was peaking again, cold sweat dripping down her forehead and her skin deathly pale.  
They had a small mat of dead leaves and grass made for her, and tried to cover her with scraps of cloth they  
managed to find when they scavenged, because that's all they could do, scavenge, like a pack of rats.  
J'rut, an alien Jim couldn't remember the name of, and Gary Mitchell, another boy from Terra, were out finding  
food. Jim would have gone, but a nasty, blood-soaked cough from Hanna told him what he had been dreading.

Today was the day little Hanna would die.

He held her hand, even though she succumbed to a fever-induced sleep a while ago. He didn't let go, even when  
he heard the boys return. Even when Gary walked up to him, the unofficial leader, and held out a small bag, that  
was half-full of smashed bugs and fungus.

"We couldn't find much." Gary whispered, an unconscious action when seeing sleeping Hanna. "We went as far as  
we could without getting caught. We might need to find another place to hide. The Federation will still find us."

"We can't!" Jim hissed, glancing at the younger boy over his shoulder. "We can't move, yet. The Federation should  
be here any day now and if we try to move, we might end up killed before they find us. No soldiers have come  
close to this place for days. They've moved on, but the minute they spot us…" He couldn't finish the thought. It  
was bad enough Hanna was dying. He couldn't lose another one of his kids, and that's what they were now, his  
kids. Then he couldn't look anymore. He turned away from Gary, Hanna, his kids, everything for a moment to look  
at the sky. He looked up in time to catch a quick flick of light stretching across the sky. Another shooting star.

Jim sighed. He remembered how well the last wish worked out, but he couldn't imagine how a wish now would  
make things any worse. With another sigh, he closed his eyes, breathing deep, despite the gnawing ache of  
hunger in his body.

I wish the Federation finds my kids. I wish they find all…nine of them and save them. Please. He opened his eyes  
and looked at Hanna, who grew still under them. It won't be long now. He let Gary lead him away to the others,  
who were rationing out what little J'Rut collected.

"To Hanna, Jim-sire." The pink-hued alien with violet eyes said with a clipped, gravelly accent. Jim took the root  
and the fungus, looked at Hanna, and handed it back. Gary was looking at him with an understanding frown. He  
couldn't put his kids through this any longer. When Hanna dies, he'll bury her, then they'll leave. They need food  
more than a hole to hide in.

"Fine," Jim said through gritted teeth. "You guys leave tomorrow. Leave a trail like I told you, and I'll follow."

"Hanna, Jim-sire?" J'Rut asked with a confused twitch. Jim shook his head. He felt terrible. He felt evil, but it was  
a necessary evil to save his kids. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.' His mother  
told him that once, when he came to her with a black eye and an empty vodka bottle Frank had thrown at him. It  
was her way of smoothing things over. Frank kept our family together, she said. He had been shipped off to Tarsus  
not long after that.

"Don't give her any food. You guys leave. I'll stay with her." He ignored the others' outrage, their naïve belief that  
everyone was going to survive with little to no problems. He and Gary sat together, silent, wiser.

"I'll have them out by morning." Gary assured him in a quiet voice. Jim nodded, nibbling at the gnarled root they  
handed him. "Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself? The soldiers may be gone, but they can always come  
back."

Jim shrugged. "I don't care. You guys get out of here alive, and I'll be fine."

"Sure thing, Jimmy." He caught Gary giving Hanna's sleeping form a long, sad look before returning to the insects  
in his hand. Jim was tempted to give Hanna her ration, just to cheer her up, but he knew it'd be wasted. If  
anything, it would just prolong the inevitable. So he held tightly to the root in his hand, for once the hunger  
vanishing with his appetite. He forced himself to eat. It will take a lot of strength to make a grave for her.

The next day came as expected. Jim woke up to find his kids gone, their few belongings taken with them. He felt  
hollow, the aching void growing when he saw the blankets on Hanna pulled up over her head. Gary must have  
checked on her before he left.

The grave took hours to dig out by hand, but Jim knew he had to bury her body deep. They weren't the only  
scavengers hunting out here. He dug until he was a few feet in, hanging over the edge to scrape the bottom when  
he decided that it was enough. His vision spun and his head was pounding, but he ducked back into their cave,  
retrieved Hanna's cold body, and drug her to the side of the grave. He had just rolled her in when he heard the  
crunch of dried grass. He froze. Another crunch, and this time the thud of a heavy boot.

He spared a quick glance for his youngest kid, dead in the ground, before he jumped up and ran. The boots  
followed him. Shouts to stop were being called after him, but he kept running, his side splitting and his lungs  
burning. He didn't eat enough to keep him going like this. They were going to catch him. He was going to die.

A body collided into his, knocking a shocked cry out of him, but he refused to give up as he fought against the  
hands pinning him to the ground. Others came up to them to help the man pinning him, grabbing his arms and  
his legs, holding him still.

"Easy, son," the man pinning him grunted, fighting to hold him. Jim screamed in frustration and bucked under  
them. A hand gripped the back of his neck, pressing the side of his face into the dirt.

"We're here to help you!" Another shouted over their struggle. "My name is Lieutenant Ben Finrow of the USS  
Wanderer. We're here with the Federation to search for survivors like you and the other kids."

Jim froze under them, his body going as rigid as stone. "Other kids?" he cautioned, his throat dry and his body  
aching.

He looked up at the Lieutenant, who gave him an open, friendly smile. "Yes, that's how we found you. The others  
were located a few miles west of here. We sent them ahead for medical care, but the older one, Mitchell, told us  
where to find you."

They released Jim and he stood slowly, his joints stiff and his stomach roaring in hunger. He observed the  
Starfleet officers surrounding him before he spat on the Lieutenant's boot.

"You're late!" He spat, anger he buried weeks ago rising to the surface. If they had come sooner, Hanna would be  
alive. Countless thousands would have lived.

The Lieutenant's face fell and Jim caught a glimpse of immeasurable grief in the man's face. "We know," was all  
he said in reply. Without another word, the men led him away from where he hid for weeks, waiting for this very  
thing to happen. He would have been relieved if the grave of little Hanna wasn't there, taunting him. They  
beamed him up to the ship, where he was forced into a gurney and carted off to medbay, where a stern doctor  
continued to hypo him senseless. It was only after getting hit with a sedative that he noticed Gary sitting beside  
him in his own biobed.

"That shooting star you saw last night?" He asked, his voice slurred. He must have been sedated, too. Jim's head  
was starting to feel fuzzy. "Did it work?"

The room was darkening around him and his body went numb. "Yeah, i'did." He thought he said as the room  
swallowed him into an abyss. His wish did come true, with nothing more and nothing less.

 

3\. Busted Up (Or Jim Wants to Change)

The bartender finally kicked him out without so much as a 'Have a nice day!' and he sat on the curb in the early  
morning darkness outside. His head was pulsing with a dull throb and blood dripped from his face. He could feel  
his cheek swelling, his vision faltering as it pushed his eye shut, but he ignored it. The words of Captain Pike were  
running through his head, the man's deep voice chasing away the beginnings of what was looking to be a  
magnificent hangover.

"I dare you to do better…" He had said, the words instantly plucking a chord deep inside Jim. He knew he could do  
better than his father. He had no illusions about George Kirk. He was a cookie-cutter Starfleet officer, one of the  
hundreds of nameless recruits who would have lived an easily forgettable life if he wasn't so damn noble. A happy  
wife, two sons, but instead he had to be a hero. Jim wondered if his father would have been just as bad as his  
mother. Would they both have abandoned their sons for space? They certainly had no issues about leaving Sam  
behind before he was born. Sam could barely tell Jim what his own father looked like. He hardly knew him.  
Jim knew he could have done better. Surely there was another way. If his father had maybe stopped to think, to  
strategize, then maybe he'd still be alive. If they hauled ass sooner, would they have made it out?  
Jim turned his face up to the fading stars being chased away by the strip of sunlight on the very edge of the  
horizon. They were barely visible in the morning light, but then a zooming strip of light crossed the skies.

Bitterness filled Jim to the brim. It's been proven that those son-of-a-bitch stars worked! Every wish Jim had  
made had come true, but God knows they backfire on him. His childhood wish for a family left him with an  
abusive asshole and a runaway brother, not to mention his neglectful mother. His wish for salvation on Tarsus IV  
came a day too late, hell, weeks too late! Little Hanna would have graduated from school by now!

The urge to make a wish was instant and painful. Jim knew this wasn't the life he wanted. He didn't like being the  
only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest. He didn't like drinking himself into a stupor every night out of  
sheer boredom. In fact, he hated being stuck in Iowa, on Terra. He hated being the screw-up son of the great  
Winona Kirk, the martyr of a mother who was strong enough not only to raise the spitting images of the hero  
George Kirk, but also to escape the doomed marriage to Frank, a man who was driven to alcoholism by her  
wayward boys.

Now that he thought about it, joining Starfleet didn't sound like that terrible of an idea. It would get him out of  
Iowa. It would challenge him, and he bet that he could make the rank of officer before he even graduated. He  
would explore different worlds. He could meet aliens of all shapes and sizes, many of them being anatomically  
compatible, or that's what he heard. Pike seemed like an okay guy. Maybe the fleet won't be full of stuffy-shirt  
jackasses who only saw him as George Kirk's son. Maybe, just maybe, he was meant for the stars.

He looked up again in time to catch the star vanishing behind the rising sun and as the light rose to shine on him,  
he let his eyes slipped closed.

I don't know if you're the fucker that sent Frank, he thought, or if you're the bastard that watched Hanna die, or if  
you're some new asshole sent to fuck up my life, but you want a wish? Here it goes. I wish my life will take a turn  
for the better. I wish that I had my own ship, that I was captain of that ship, and that for once in my life, I'm not  
the screw-up. Or just George Kirk's shadow. Or the loser who only has sex with farm animals. He didn't tell Uhura  
but that remark did kind of hurt. I want to be James T. Kirk, someone who is worth a damn. For once in my life, I  
want to be someone people look up to, instead of look down on. I want to make things right.

He opened his eyes, squinting when the sun shone brightly in them. He shielded his eyes, cursing, as he stood.

He wobbled unsteadily before making his way over to his motorcycle. He then noticed the time on the  
chronometer.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, hopping onto the bike. At this rate, he'll show up right as the shuttle for recruits take off.

He hoped there would be some kind of delay. He gripped the handlebars with a grimace. Some lucky bastard was  
going home with his bike at the end of the day. There was no way he would have time to store it before he left for  
the Academy.

You're off to a great start, dumbass! He thought bitterly as he spun out into the street, throwing up gravel as he  
sped to the shipyard. The sun steadily rose behind him, the brightening light taunting him along with the ticking  
minutes on the clock. He worried for a brief moment if he would miss the transport. This was certainly one of the  
most impulsive things he ever done, as an adult, and he'd be damned if he screwed this up. As he thought about  
it, his whole life had been building up to this decision. He was never meant to stay planet-side. The firm ground  
and the sunlight was never a home to him. When the sun would vanish, he would always look up, to the planets  
and stars above him, and his heart would always ache, as if he was looking at his home.

As he pulled up to the shipyard, he saw a partially built starship rise out of the mass of cargo containers and  
scaffolds surrounding it. It was just a half-finished metal hull, but the idea of what it would be, what it would  
become, made him pause. For a fleeting moment, something in his chest fluttered. This was it. This is really about  
to happen. He most likely wouldn't be on this ship, but he would be on one regardless, first as an Ensign, then as  
an Officer, and then hopefully, eventually, as a Captain.

He glanced down at the chronometer again, then cursed his stupidity. The shuttle was due to leave any second!

As he sped straight to the ship, he fought to keep the easy smirk on his face despite the surprise running through  
him. The shuttle waited? On him? He saw Captain Pike waiting for him in the shadow of the shuttle's hatch and  
the smirk was suddenly not so hard to keep. The smug look on the older man's face said enough as Jim threw the  
bike's keys to the nearest guy passing by.

"Four years?" Pike asked him, fighting hard to keep his voice blank.

Jim passed him, turning to walk backwards as he flashed his trademark grin. "I'll do it in three." Was all he said  
before he climbed into the shuttle, grateful that the sneaky bastard stalled the ship's take-off.

(Three Years Later)

Jim coughed violently, slumping over as Spock pulled away from him. His neck ached and his throat was on fire.  
That pointy-eared bastard had a hell of a grip! He honestly thought for a second that Spock's older counterpart  
just sent him to his death.

He zoned out as he focused on getting oxygen back in his body, so he didn't know Spock had left, relinquishing  
his command, until Bones scoffed.

"Well, congratulations, Jim!" He snapped, glaring at Jim. "We've got no captain and no god-damned first officer to  
replace him." The rest of the bridge stayed silent with dread.

Jim smirked, standing straighter. "Yeah, we do." He slowly made his way over to the captain's chair. He fell more  
than sat into it, wincing as the motion caused a wave of fire to rush up his windpipe.

"What are you talking about?!" Bones crossed his arms.

"Pike made him First Officer." Sulu said with a flat voice, gesturing to Jim. Jim adjusted his body in the chair,  
finding a comfortable position for his bruised body.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Bones exclaimed, rounding on Jim.

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the support," he muttered, taking a deep breath to calm his rushing heartbeat. He  
then noticed Uhura approaching him with an ice cold glare. He fought the urge to shrink under her gaze and  
instead kept his usual easy façade.

She stopped beside him, refusing to look at him. "I sure hope you know what you're doing…Captain." The word  
was spat out with pure venom, but Jim let it slide. After all, he did just force a man to have an emotional  
meltdown.

"So do I." He replied, hoping it would at least keep her on board. Despite their rivalry, he wasn't blind. She was  
among the best of the best. He would need her in his corner. She didn't say another word, but went back to her  
station.

It hit Jim then. He was Captain. He was the Captain of the Enterprise. He fought down a bitter laugh. His wish  
came true, and all it cost was an entire planet of almost six billion innocent lives, one of his crewmember's  
possible sanity, and an inconceivable threat to destroy his home planet.

Be careful what you wish for, eh, Jimmy? He frowned. Shooting stars were many things, but half-assed wasn't one  
of them…

 

4\. Holding Out (Or Jim Wants a First Officer)

The celebration of his promotion lasted well into the night. He managed to snag a few moments with each person  
who helped him on the Enterprise. He had spoken to Sulu first, then formally met the Russian whiz kid, Chekov.

He shook hands with Bones and laughed as the man grumbled about the terrible time he had on that goddamned  
ship. He even exchanged a few friendly words with Uhura, cherishing the look of shock on her face when he  
casually called her Nyota. Then he craned his neck over the crowd, trying to find a certain pointy-eared bastard.

He was swept away by admirals and professors alike, suddenly so sure that he would succeed, and that they  
always knew he was meant for greatness, blah blah blah, but he eventually managed to corner Spock towards the  
exit. Obviously, the Vulcan tried to make a sneaky getaway.

"Hey, Spock!" He called just as the Vulcan stepped out into the hall. Spock stiffened, turning a pointed ear  
towards Jim. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Spock then turned, his hands behind his back. "Affirmative, Captain."

Jim laughed. "Please, I haven't even stepped on the ship yet! Call me Jim." When the Vulcan nodded, Jim  
continued, "Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened on the bridge."

Spock stiffened, his expression going blanker, if that was possible. "Apologies are illogical, Captain-"

"Jim-" He corrected, but the Vulcan ignored him.

"-Your endeavors aboard the Enterprise, while unorthodox, were successful, rendering any actions you took in the  
process, however aggressive, logical. Your manipulation of my emotional state was necessary, and therefore, your  
apology is not required."

"Spock," Jim said, frowning at the Vulcan. "The things I said were horrible and inhuman." Spock looked away and  
Jim could almost see his hands tense behind his back. "And they were complete lies." Brown eyes rose to meet  
his briefly and Jim then knew where his human half was. There was so much emotion behind his eyes, as if they  
were a dam keeping a flood at bay. "It was obvious you loved her, and I never should have gone after that. It was  
cruel and hateful, so I apologize, Spock. I would like for us to put aside our, let's just say it, disastrous  
introduction, and be friends. I was actually hoping you would continue your post as the First Officer of the  
Enterprise. I would be honored to serve with you. I can tell the ship won't be worth a damn without you."

He could tell his words affected the Vulcan. He could see pride and a hint of sadness mix in his eyes before his  
mask of indifference came down.

Then he spoke, his voice void of any emotion, "I thank you for your offer, Captain, and for your apology. I must  
also admit that I was wrong to use your father's death against you at your hearing. It was an action solely based  
on my wounded pride, and for that, I must apologize." It shocked Jim that not only did Spock apologize, but also  
that he admitted to having emotions. But then again, it's not like he could deny he had them. The necklace of  
browning bruises around Jim's neck could attest to that!

"However, I will have to decline your offer to continue my position on the Enterprise." Jim felt like his heart sank  
into his feet. He really wanted to stick with the crew he had. They had been through hell together, so Jim was  
sure that his crew could handle anything. They were some of the best and brightest Starfleet has to offer. It was  
only right that they also have the only Vulcan in the fleet. It had felt so natural to fight beside him on the Narada.

He could easily see them become the indestructible duo he caught glimpses of in the old Vulcan's mind. That

Spock held so much admiration, so much affection, for his Jim. Jim only wanted the friendship that promised. He  
got a taste of it and now he wanted more.

Spock's posture was rigid and distant. "As a member of a now," he saw Spock swallow with difficulty, "endangered  
species, it is my sole duty to help establish a colony for the survivors of my planet and to aid in the rebuilding of  
our race and culture. My resignation from Starfleet has already been processed and I will be discharged from  
service by 1600 hours tomorrow. I will be leaving for the Vulcan colony soon after."

Jim forced himself to smile, but all he wanted to do was hogtie the Vulcan and drag him back to the Enterprise.

He saw their potential and he knew Spock resigning to run off to God knows where would be an absolute waste of  
what could be. "Very well, Spock, but if you change your mind, you're more than welcome to join us. No matter  
what, we'll always have a place for you. You deserve it."

He saw a pang of hurt flash across Spock's face before it was quickly hidden, and Jim knew. Running off to that  
colony was the last thing Spock wanted. He was just doing what was right for his people, but was it right for him?

"I hope that everything works out, Spock. I really do. I'll try contacting you in the meantime. I feel like you and  
me could be great friends." He moved to shake his hand but then immediately pulled it back, forming a clumsy  
ta'al. "Live long and prosper, Spock. It was an honor working with you."

Spock rose his own hand in a salute before, with a ghost of a smile, holding out his hand. Jim stared at it in  
shock, as if it was going to bite him. "I am amenable at the moment to shake your hand, Captain. It is customary  
to do so in your culture after great achievements such as this."

Jim hesitantly took the Vulcan's hand, jumping when what felt like an electric shock ran up his arm. Spock tensed,  
but gripped Jim's hand firmly before shaking it twice. "You are a fascinating individual, Captain Kirk. I predict that  
this is only the beginning of a very noteworthy career."

Jim couldn't help but be flooded with warmth at the Vulcan's words and it seemed that warmth reflected back to  
him in the Vulcan's eyes. They broke their grasp, Jim's skin tingling where they touched, and the Vulcan inclined  
his head.

"Until we meet again, Captain Kirk. Live long and prosper." With that, the Vulcan left. Jim clenched his jaw,  
fighting the urge to either call him back or run after him.

A hand clapped his shoulder, making him jump. He then looked behind him to see Mr. Scott, who had a warm,  
jovial smile on his face.

"Cannae be sneakin' off like that, lad." He shook Jim playfully. "Gi'n'her and convince the admirals not to ship my  
sorry arse back to Delta Vega."

"Sure thing, Scotty." Jim smiled, ignoring the ache in his chest that wanted to chase after the pointy-eared  
bastard. "Don't want you to miss out on the Enterprise."

"Got that right, lad! All I got was a peep show! I'm comin' back for the main event!" They happily joined the fray  
of officers and admirals, who welcomed them back with large smiles. Jim knew he should immerse himself in the  
celebration but his mind kept drifting back to the brief look of sadness on Spock's face.

As the night descended over Starfleet Headquarters, Jim could catch glimpses of stars through the large pane  
windows. As he watched, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a comet whizzing by. He thought back on his wish to  
be captain, and where he was standing now. Now he wanted only one thing on top of that.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief second. I wish Spock would do what would make him happy. He thinks he's  
doing the right thing, and its illogical to wish for Spock's happiness because Spock's Vulcan and happiness is an  
emotion he doesn't feel, but he does, and he should. I wish he could be my friend and my First Officer, but what I  
want more is for him to be happy. He sure as hell deserves it after all of this.

A loud laugh nearby pulled him out of his reverie and he opened his eyes. The shooting star was long gone, but  
the hollow feeling in his chest wasn't. Spock certainly made an impression on Jim, and he thinks whether or not  
he sees the Vulcan again, he will always remember that pointy-eared bastard.

(One Month Later)

The Enterprise shone from within as its newly reconstructed beauty wowed its crew. Jim felt his heart pounding as  
he sat in the captain's chair again, this time as her permanent captain. He fought the laugh of pure joy bubbling  
in his throat as the other officers took their stations. The science station stayed glaringly empty, mocking Jim on  
his foolish hope. He denied every application for First Officer, clinging to the idea that suddenly, at the last  
minute, Spock would send in his, taking Jim's offer.

Jim, for now, ignored the empty chair, instead turning to Sulu. "Report, Mr. Sulu."

"Yes, sir." The helmsman replied with a friendly grin. "Ship is ready for departure. Starfleet has given us clearance  
to leave on your mark, Captain."

"Very well. Give her a few minutes before we take off. We need to see if all the bells and whistles are intact." He  
saw Chekov glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, confusion on his face, but Jim ignored it. This was it. In a  
few moments, he would leave with his ship and his only choice for a First Officer will be left behind. He had heard  
Spock stayed behind after the transports for New Vulcan left Terra, and he heard Uhura mention his name once or  
twice in passing, but Spock still hadn't come to Jim about accepting the position. It was like the Vulcan was  
pondering his options, putting off his decision until the last minute. It was very…human of him.

The hiss of the turbolift opening forced him to look up, and his heart stopped.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Spock asked Jim, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Jim suppressed the urge to whoop in delight as he smirked back. "Permission granted." He stood as Spock  
approached, the slight rise of the deck putting him the same height as the Vulcan, which he thought was  
appropriate. After all, Spock was going to be his unofficial co-captain…he just didn't know it yet. "I thought you  
wouldn't show up."

"You were not alone in that thought, Captain. However, I have been told that due to special circumstances, I can  
now be two places at once, and that I am to do what feels right."

Jim's smirk grew, "That special circumstance wouldn't happen to have told you he lied his ass off about universeending  
paradoxes, did he?"

Spock's eyes glittered with amusement. "He implied."

"Are all Vulcans as sneaky as you, or is it just a Spock thing?" Spock stiffened, an edge of defensiveness  
tightening his jaw, but Jim saw he was fighting it off, as if it was an old habit.

"I believe it may, in fact, be a human thing. I inherited my physical characteristics from my father, so would it not  
be logical to assume that facets of my personality have been passed down from my mother?" A hint of grief  
entered his voice, but Spock still seemed to be in good spirits.

Jim grinned, wide and welcoming, before clapping Spock's shoulder. "It's good to have you on board, Mr. Spock.  
The Enterprise wouldn't be the same without you."

"So I have been told." He replied. After nodding to Jim, he turned on his heel to take a seat at the science station,  
and Jim sat in the captain's chair.

"Ready when you are, Captain." Sulu threw over his shoulder. The bridge hummed with anticipation and  
excitement as they prepared to depart.

"Take us out, Mr. Sulu." Jim picked up the PADD beside him, propping it in his lap, as the ship lifted away from the  
spacedock.

"Aye, Captain." The ship hummed to life as Sulu prepared it for warp and Jim couldn't help but look back again at  
his new First Officer.

His heart felt like it stopped again when he turned to meet the Vulcan's eyes. Spock seemed to be seeing him,  
really seeing him, for the first time since they met. As he looked back at Spock, he couldn't help but do the same  
thing. The older Spock forced him to see younger Spock in a different light, not as an emotionless bastard, but as  
someone he could relate to. Someone who didn't belong anywhere except right here, on this bridge, on this ship,  
in space. He wondered if older Spock told the young Vulcan about the epic-worthy friendship they were supposed  
to have. The way the Vulcan was measuring him up, Jim could guess that he did.

This has to be the only wish he made that he doesn't see himself regretting…

 

5\. A Sleepless Night (or Jim Wants Revenge)

With a loud curse, Jim flung the blankets off of him and rolled out of his bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold  
wooden floor.

He still couldn't believe Christopher Pike was gone. His first friend, his mentor, the father he never had…gone.

Tears burned in his eyes as he fought them back, breathing raggedly. He roughly wiped his nose.  
Without much thought, he leaped out of bed, throwing on what clothes he could find, barely hopping into his  
shoes before he ran out of the door.

Jim knocked on the door loudly. He would have smiled at the loud voice cursing him on the other side if this was  
any other night, but not tonight. When Bones opened the door, shirtless and snarling, his face fell.

"Should'a known you'd be down here." He stepped aside, waving Jim in. Jim slid past him, immediately claiming a  
side of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to him. He heard Bones grumble under his breath as he dug  
through his cabinets in the kitchen. Jim took a moment to look out of the high window perched over the fireplace.  
Bones had a modest house outside of the city, far enough from the light pollution to see a few stars in the  
western sky.

He jerked when Bones slammed the thick glass tumblers on the table, sitting a bottle of bourbon beside them. Jim  
took the bottle and uncapped it, filling the glasses almost to the brim.

"How many?" Bones asked, eyeing the amber liquid.

"Four." Jim replied, wasting no time in throwing back his first glass, the burn in his throat bringing tears to his  
eyes. He heard Bones mutter under his breath before he slowly downed his own drink.

"Jesus, kid!" He hissed, shaking his head. "We haven't started on four since the Academy."

"In case you forgot, Bones," Jim snapped, refilling the glasses, "that wasn't that long ago." He downed his second  
glass as quickly as the first one, growling. "I sure as hell didn't!"

Bones only huffed in response, throwing back his second shot, already feeling the warm buzz climb up his spine.  
Why in God's name did he have to buy the good booze?! He scoffed, wishing his hangover-free morning farewell,  
as they both swallowed their third.

"We were thrown onto a ship with no experience, hardly any expertise, and no fucking clue!" Jim snapped,  
sloppily filling their fourth shot.

"Startin' a little early, ain't you?" Bones smirked, tapping his overflowing glass with a fingernail. Jim glared at him,  
taking the fourth shot with practiced ease.

"There!" He barked, turning the glass upside down and setting it on the table with a loud thud. He then covered  
his face with his hands, sighing through his fingers. "The last thing Pike ever did for me was get me back on that  
damn ship. I was his First Officer for all of twenty minutes, Bones! Now I'm the fucking Captain again!"

Bones slowly sipped his fourth, already feeling fuzzy around the edges. "That's what you wanted, right? To be  
Captain again?"

Jim's face fell. The tension in his muscles multiplied and his face grew darker and darker until he looked  
downright murderous. Bones' slow brain finally caught up to what he said and he paled.

"Jim," he started, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothin' by that."

"Just fuck off, Bones." He mumbled, staring down at the table. Bones knew Jim well enough to know that he  
meant, 'forget about it', but the words still irritated him.

"Look, kid—," Bones began, but Jim jumped up to his feet, cutting off his lecture.

"That's just it, isn't it?!" He asked, not waiting for an answer. "The reason I lied on that stupid report? The reason  
I was so pissed at Spock? The reason why now, as we speak, Spock is on someone else's crew under someone  
else's captain? It's because I'm a kid! A stupid, reckless, complete epic failure of a man who can't even run a  
fucking starship!" He rushed over to Bones, snatching his half-full glass and downing it in a gulp. He grimaced,  
but stayed standing. "Bones," he said, his voice softer, "I think I deserve to be grounded. Pike was right," Jim's  
eyes shone with unshed tears, "I shouldn't be a captain. The Narada was pure luck. If it wasn't for Spock, Chekov,  
Scotty, or any of you guys, Nero would have won and Earth would be destroyed."

Jim collapsed onto the couch next to Bones, breathing deeply to fight back the sobs building in his chest. "All  
because of those fucking wishes!"

"Ah, yes," Bones hummed, taking the empty tumbler away from Jim, "The cursed shooting stars." Bones then  
sighed, pulling Jim closer to him. "Jim, we always come back to this. Your mother was a dead beat who married  
an asshole, Hanna would have died even if Starfleet had got there on time, you managed to get out from under  
your father's shadow and become the captain of the Enterprise, and Spock agreed to be your First Officer, which  
entailed undermining your ass when you lied on your report."

Jim shook his head, fighting a losing battle with his emotions. "Pike saved my ass again. He came to find me after  
chewing me out. He told me that he pulled some strings to not only take back the Enterprise, but to also make  
me his First Officer, so I would eventually be captain again." He had been so grateful. When he was told he was  
getting his ship back, he wanted nothing more than to hug the man as tightly as he could. Why didn't he? Did  
Pike know how much he meant to Jim? "Pike's dead." Then the dam broke. Hitching sobs broke out of his chest  
and tears streamed down his face as he collapsed into Bones, his intoxication only adding fuel to the fire. Bones  
wrapped an arm around his shoulders, patting his back as he purged himself of the grief constricting his chest.

"We're all gonna miss him, Jim. Even the hobgoblin. He was a good man." Bones fought back a few stray tears of  
his own as he comforted Jim.

"I put him through so much shit! Nibiru, Narada, the Academy! I get into trouble and he comes to bail me out.  
Every. Fucking. Time!" He punctuated the words by punching the cushions under him. Bones grumbled in  
affirmation, letting Jim cry it out. For someone who been through so much, he certainly had a tender heart. "I  
can't lose Spock, Bones! I can't be captain without him. He may be a pointy-eared dick right now, but if he's not  
there, I'll end up killing everybody! He should be captain. Not me. The Admirals would respect him. They're just  
waiting for me to royally fuck up."

"That's how Admirals work, Jim. They know they can't intimidate a Vulcan so instead they scare the shit out of  
you."

Jim pulled away, his eyes sore and swollen. He panted for breath as he hiccupped around the last remaining sobs  
in his throat. He knew he must look like a mess right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just lost the  
closest thing he had to a father. He could look like shit if he wanted to. "Well, it sucks." Bones chuckled as Jim  
scooted back away from him, the alcohol doing nothing to soothe the embarrassment of crying into his best  
friend's shoulder.

Bones suddenly looked out the window and Jim turned to see what he was looking at. He turned just in time to  
catch the tail of a shooting star. He seethed as Bones muttered, "Of course."

Unless you give me back Spock, you can just go fuck yourself! He thought towards the star. He couldn't bring  
himself to make a wish. He has lost so much more than he's gained because of those damn stars. Bones shook  
his head and bent down to clean up their mess as Jim yawned loudly.

"I'll have a car come by to bring you home. I'd let you stay, but these California apartments are like sleeping in a  
closet. The couch ain't worth a damn, either! You would think in the age of space exploration and interplanetary  
trade, you could find a damn couch comfy enough to sleep on!"

Jim slowly got up, rubbing a kink out of his neck as his head pounded with a now-dulled sense of grief.  
"So what was your wish?" Bones asked, putting away the booze.

"I didn't make one." He replied, swaying lightly on his feet.

"Good," Bones assured him, "might be better off in the long run."

As the shuttle was humming to life under Jim, he looked around at his crew. The new woman, Carol Wallace, was  
certainly a welcome surprise. Well, welcome to him. Spock was certainly not happy with it, but Jim couldn't bring  
himself to really care. It seemed Spock was appalled by everything Jim did lately.

Jim wondered when Stuck-Up-Vulcan-Spock replaced Want-To-Kill-Everyone-And-Their-Grandma-Because-Vulcan-Was-Destroyed-Spock, because he could sure use the latter's help to convince the former that blasting that bastard John Harrison off the  
face of Qo'noS would benefit everybody. Or maybe blast him right between the eyes after telling him exactly why

Jim Kirk would be the one pulling the trigger.

As they approached, he glanced at Spock again. Spock stared straight ahead, jaw taut, and irritation just pouring  
off of him. For God's sake, Jim thought, it's not like he was replacing Spock! He just met the woman, he wouldn't  
make her First Officer just yet….then a realization hit Jim.

Spock was his First Officer again. He brought Spock back to the Enterprise to serve under him as his closest  
colleague. He got his wish.

You son of a bitch! Jim hissed in his head, rolling his eyes skyward. Wonder how this was going to backfire!

 

+1: Come Back to Me (or Spock wants Jim Back)

The captain's heart stopped again today. Spock read over Dr. McCoy's report as he sat next to the unconscious  
man. McCoy certainly turned an alarming shade of red when Spock demanded the specifics of what happened  
today, but after a moment, the color vanished along with the doctor's objections. He remembered the doctor  
giving him a sad look as he handed it over, if sad was the term used to describe his expression, Spock was still  
unsure.

Captain James T Kirk's pulse abruptly ceased at 1146 hours, an hour after Spock reluctantly left his side to have  
his mandatory lunch with Nyota Uhura. The doctor and the lieutenant both felt he needed restrictions on how long  
he stayed with Kirk, allowing his prolonged stays only under the conditions he has lunch with Uhura every other  
day and leave without argument when the doctor instructs him to. He wasn't even aware of the event until he  
returned to see a nurse rolling resuscitating equipment from the captain's room.

The doctor was haggard in appearance. Dark circles stayed under his eyes, and his clothes hung wrinkled and  
worn on his frame. Keeping the captain alive has certainly taken its toll on the Chief Medical Officer, without the  
added anxiety of reactions from Khan's blood. Reviving Jim Kirk has become a regular thing, to the point to where  
only McCoy and Spock were allowed to see him, the rest of the crew would not be able to recover from seeing  
their captain in such a state.

Spock was almost denied entry. Starfleet felt that Kirk's condition was distracting to someone who now had to  
assume the role of Acting Captain, to oversee the repairs on the Enterprise. It was only after another emotional  
outburst, not that dissimilar from Khan, if Nyota was to be believed, that they finally acquiesced to Spock's  
desires.

Spock couldn't stay away. Not after what happened. He barely slept at night, images of Khan standing over a  
broken Kirk, laughing, and Jim's eyes dimming as his hand slipped away from Spock's. How Spock wished that the  
glass between them wasn't there, if he could only have taken Jim's hand, when Jim needed him the most. Then  
when Jim Kirk died, something had snapped in Spock's mind. It was like a sudden vortex in the back of his head,  
consuming all reason and logic until only one thought remained: Kill Khan!

The chase was a blur to Spock, even now. He could only compare his rage to what he heard of Pon Farr. He had  
lost all sense of what he was or where he was. All he saw was his enemy, a body that needed to be torn apart. His  
prey, that needed to be killed. An animal that killed his friend, his captain, his mate…

Spock paused, his hands gripping the medical PADD with enough strength to crack it. Jim Kirk was his mate. No!

He only wanted Kirk to be his mate. Now that Kirk's heart was beating, the vortex in his mind eased to a stagnant  
pool of muddled thoughts and emotions, Kirk's most likely. Spock took to shielding the link as much as possible,  
hence why he couldn't feel his mate, his t'hy'la, dying. If he exposed the link, he would be too tempted to  
explore, to bond them, regardless of Kirk's ability to consent. The urge to reach out, to meld with him, took  
Spock. He set the PADD aside, quietly rising from his seat across from the captain, but he stopped when his hand  
lifted to reach out to Jim's meld points.

What was Spock to do? The appeal of Jim's mind was calling to him, begging to encompass him. His mind ached  
where the bond was stretched thin, screaming for completion.

Spock turned away, fleeing to the other side of the room to where a large pane window overlooked San Francisco.

Below he could see the extensive damage done by the USS Vengeance, so instead he looked up to the sky, where  
stars were beginning to shine above the healing city. He often had used the night sky on Vulcan as his focus while  
meditating. The endless expanse of stars and planets above him reminded him that the sheer size of the universe,  
now proven to be one of many, would render his problems insignificant and fleeting in comparison. The thought  
often comforted him.

A flash of light in the corner of Spock's eyes caught his attention. He turned in time to see the tail of a comet pass  
by. A shooting star, his mother would have called it.

Humans, when they see a shooting star, make wishes. His mother's voice, almost perfectly clear in his memory,  
echoed through his thoughts. They say if you make a wish as the star passes, it will come true.

Highly illogical, Mother, he had said to her. With its position in space, a 'shooting star' would be seen  
simultaneously by a significant number of living beings. Surely if all of them made a wish upon the same star,  
which is an inanimate object to begin with, they would not have that wish granted.

That may be true, Spock, but it gives them hope. That's what everyone truly wishes for.

"As do I." Spock muttered to himself. The comet sailed by, its tail fading into the night sky as Spock decided to  
indulge yet another human aspect of himself. "I wish for the life of my t'hy'la. James Kirk is now everything to  
me, and I wish that I am given the chance to properly cherish him. As illogical as this practice is, I am to assume  
you understand my true desire and meaning. James T. Kirk is something that you, or I, or anyone can bear to  
lose. He is and always will be the single greatest achievement of this universe."

A knock at the door startled Spock from his reverie, but he showed no outward reaction as he turned to face  
McCoy, who was slouching against the doorframe, his jacket thrown on haphazardly.

"Wishing on stars, Spock?" He asked, but his usual sneer was nowhere to be seen.

Spock straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. "I believe it's a common human practice when all other  
options have been exhausted. Unless, of course, you intend to brew a potion, Doctor?"

McCoy snorted, walking over to Kirk's prone form. "Relax, Spock. Jim does it all the time. Can't tell you how many  
times those damn stars fucked Jim over! They certainly like to mess with him, I'll give you that. Let's just hope  
they like you a little better." The doctor then turned his attention to Jim, checking his monitors. Spock then  
noticed the doctor stiffening. "I'll be damned!" He then whipped around to gaze at Spock with cautious hope.

"What the hell did you wish for?!"

He knew human tradition dictated that he didn't tell, but he felt foolish for continuing the superstition. "The  
captain's recovery." He replied, as if it were plain fact.

McCoy laughed, suddenly and harshly, as he turned back to Kirk's charts. "This is incredible!" He exclaimed.

"Someone up there is in love with you, you green-blooded bastard!" He then flipped open his comm, "Grace, have  
your lackies prepare a better room for Jim. He's bound to complain if he's stuck in here." He flipped it closed  
without waiting for a reply, before looking at Spock, who were a subtle mask of confusion.

"He's coming back, Spock. If these signs keep up, he'll be awake as early as tomorrow." And even as he said it,  
Spock felt a slight ripple in the back of his mind. His bond with the captain was beginning to move. "Looks like  
there's something about those damn stars after all."

McCoy left shortly after, his loud voice echoing through the hall long after his departure. Spock didn't pay  
attention, though. His attention was instead of the gradually increasing signals of Kirk's brain activity. If Spock  
ever indulged in guessing, he would predict that his own thought patterns wee similar. He then understood fully  
what the doctor said. Jim Kirk would be awake tomorrow. He would awaken, not fully recovered, but alive. His  
captain, his t'hy'la, will live.

The stars, for some illogical reason, seemed to wink at Spock as he looked up towards the sky. He could no longer  
find the shooting star, but it certainly left its mark in that room. Spock had hope. Spock's wish had come true.

"I suppose there is," he finally said. There, in the back of his mind, he felt a brief glimpse of amusement. Whether  
it was his own or Jim's, he didn't know. All he knew was that the glimpse took the form of a star, not unlike the  
one he wished on, soaring through his katra.

There is something about those shooting stars, after all.


End file.
